Nothing To Fix
by 1000splendidsuns
Summary: I don't talk about it. I never talk about it.


I don't own anyone/anything other than Marlene lol.

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I don't talk about it. I never talk about it. The thought of her and where she is makes my bones crack and crumble, and I can hear them one by one, as what holds me together falls apart until I'm nothing but skin and hair. So I don't. I pretend like she was never here. I pretend that she died in that car crash with Mom and Dad, and Lord forgive me, I do it right until I see her again. Then I breathe easier. I can finally speak without guilt tapping me on my shoulder, hissing into my skin so that it burns,_ You're the lucky one._

Some stuff said to me when I'm out I can brush off-questions about the fight, the fire, my kid brother Pony and what happened to my two friends. People come up and say, "Man, your buddies and parents passed away the same year? Least you're here." Johnny and Dally aren't here, my parents aren't here. I am. I am! And she…

I told you I can't talk about her.

Two-Bit tried bringing her up once, but only to vent about his sister. "Barbara ain't sleeping the same ever since Marlene left. She's been following me everywhere now that her best friend's gone. Asked me to paint her nails the other day, but Lord that's where I draw the line." I couldn't even laugh. I know my buddy didn't mean no harm, but a kid sister following me around is what I wanted right then and forever until she comes back.

Pony told me about how writing his theme gave him power. I guess he can't think about her either because he don't mention her in his writing. "I wanted a hopeful ending," he explained. "Three brothers just glad to stay together. In my story, we got to be okay in the end. Just makes it easier to pretend like things are looking up, you know. Like hell still ain't over our heads."

Control. That's what we need. Where do I get mine? I don't write nothing. When people ask about my kid sister, like when me and the guys are at a diner or somethin' I don't know what to say. My face blanks and whitens. Steve always has to lean over and threaten whoever it is asking. "How do you think his sister's doing? She's just cheery as can be not living at home with her family. How the hell do you think she's doing? Don't ask stupid questions or else, dumbass." It always ruins the mood. I never touch my food after, even if there's fries on my plate.

When Darry drives us over to visit every Sunday, the closer we get the more I bite my lip so it bleeds and feel my hands get clammy as the anticipation eats me alive. Ponyboy loses himself in a book each time to keep his mind off it. I must be losing it because I consider asking him to read along. I turn up the radio and hope Elvis can sing my thoughts away, but the noise doesn't block out a damn thing.

She's the one that lost everything. I got to stay home. I got Darry and Pony and the luxury of her reality being my fear. Whenever someone says her name a million hairs stand all over. I struggle for air and all that races down my throat and fills my entirety are tears and guilt and her letters, her words. Her words of false peace. The same variation of the same words, again and again and again. _They're nice to me here, don't worry. I ate well today. I will see you soon. I miss you all. Say hi to the guys. I hope you're doing well._ A script she's been sharing for a year. A year of smiling at us every Sunday, her hair pulled back in a tight updo she would've never done when Mom was still alive, and saying the same thing as her letters do..."I'm happy here, don't you worry. I'm not missing out on anything, at least I don't got to eat your cookin', boys. Lord, it's a blessing in disguise."

Darry wouldn't even fake smile at her when she tries to joke around. He never does. I think it stresses her out. I played along, waving away her insults. "My pasta is perfect. Ask Pony."

Before Ponyboy could say anything, as he smiled slightly at her she said, "I heard it was purple this time round, so hell no to that, thanks."

It's a mystery to me how she's so strong about it. Just smiles. She's like Mom that way. A stern young woman, unmoved by the world's blows. I guess tragedy reveals what's in someone's core, once all the pretty layers on the outsides taken away. She used to be more like me and Dad, an image of her running around barefoot with us, just as wild, a jarring comparison to the elegant and proper-looking lady that the system insists she be. Her clothes look brand new, dirt not seen even an inch from her. Not a hair out of place. If we were home I'd be roughening it up, just to get a laugh out of her chasing me around the house for revenge. Instead my sister only straightens out her dress, like a uniform, and remains pleasant. Sharing no dirt on this place with us either. Hardly ever.

One of the first times we commented on it on our way out, once visiting hours were over and done with, one of the men that ran the place, Mr. Duncan - or he was possibly a lawyer, I don't remember what he did for a living - when he asked us how our visit was, he had said, "Of course she's changed. She's a child of the State now."

Oh, that wasn't the right thing to say, _a child of the State_. Darry's voice got loud and booming, so that the room would be filled with the dominance and control it demanded. "Do not call her that," he said, eyeing the man who came to be just about his height. "She is not a child of the goddamn State. Y'all took her away for a while, but I'm getting her back. She's ours. Not the State's, make no mistake." Usually I'd have shushed him or said something to smooth things over but I stood with my fists clenching, my lip in a fine line, the rest of the room tuning out just to fill my mouth with all the hateful things I want to spit. Me and Darry have always made a good team.

"She's in good hands here. There's no need to make a fuss, Darrel. Besides, what will she become with three boys running around the house? There's no good outcome leaving a young girl with that, especially since God knows what you could be up to." For some reason I was relieved to see Pony's mouth drop, a tad more of a gentle reaction, so we didn't have three fighters here wanting to brawl it out with Mr. White Mustache over here.

"Excuse me?" Darry was visibly shaking, his hands aching just to hit, to let out the anger building up. At the State, the man, the world. It just about chewed up his pride whenever one of these adults deemed Darry unfit to raise a young woman along with us boys. She got to stay with us for a little, but they snatched her up the second she messed up. She's a kid, of course she ain't gonna have no faults. I yelled that at the top of my lungs when they took her away. My throat feels scratchy at the reminder. My voice had claws that day.

"I mean no harm, but your sister belongs here now, and-"

"She belongs at home!" Pony reached for Darry, holding him back, trying to get him out the door. I helped, only because I knew how this would go if this bastard got what Darry wanted to give. "She belongs with us, we're her family, she's my child to take care of and not YOURS!" A couple of secretaries jumped at his voice, a handful of girls at the Girls Home staring at him. They wore the same dresses that Marlene did, and I wondered if they shared a room with her too. These girls were all stripped of everything: their homes, their parents, individuality, privacy...

I knew that from the little that my sister had let slip before: "I share a room with ten girls. I'm telling you, a house filled with you guys and the gang looks like nothing from here."

My own eyes widened. I hadn't heard Darry scream like that since he slapped Pony. Unlike then, though...it's painful to stop him. I wince as I pull him away.

It's been a year of her being 'A Child Of The State.' He hasn't gotten her back yet. I hate to admit it, but he's not gotten the time recently. with Pony having gone to the doctor it just about killed us- he's had to pick up extra shifts, especially to make up all the time he lost when he took off work to look after Pony when he was sick.

I stare out the window today, not even trying to use Pony as a distraction for me. Darry spits out his gum out the window, and his hair's blowing in the front seat, his combed do coming apart. He reserved the passenger seat for a cake he's made for our sister, since he doesn't trust anyone but himself to keep an eye on it.

It's no use trying with him for distraction. He just brings the conversation back to Marlene. _Do you think they're really feeding her properly? She looked skinnier to me last we saw her. Those clothes fit her right? They looked a little loose to me…_

Can't hear it. Just gets me going, gets my chest pounding. I worry too. My mind races to a thousand places...last time I saw her arm was bruised. I prayed the full rosary when we came back that night just willing that she ran into something. My momma would be so proud seeing me pray like that and I hoped she joined me. It was just awful having no control. I couldn't beat this system up, not the lawyers or social workers or heads of this Girls Home. Can't charm my way through. Can't do shit. So I avoid the talks with Darry. I smile when Marlene wants me to smile. Decided I'd keep this simple a while ago.

I nudge Pony and he hands me a piece of paper. Since Marlene doesn't really talk about her life now much, we know to entertain her with our own stories. We keep a list during the week of funny or interesting things that have happened so we can tell her. This week we've got: Darry jumping at the sound of the toaster twice, Pony finally getting to go out with Cathy Carlson, Two-Bit getting drunk and trying to get Steve to carry him home, Darry slow dancing with Pony just to show him how to do it with Cathy, after trying for half an hour to convince him that it wasn't weird as long as he was only teaching him...I just want to go over the list so I don't forget nothing at all.

"Here we are boys," Darry says, and once we pull up to park my stomach gets heavy and I feel light headed. The building also makes me uneasy. It's a rectangular, brown building with a cross on the top: St. Joseph's Girls Home written in white. It looks clean and crisp and there are no flowers in the front, so even the grass looks lonely. A black gate stands tall around the perfectly symmetrical building, with windows put every twenty bricks, so that nothing stands out. The dark, pointy metal that _eeks_ whenever we push on it holds the impression that it is gating something far more sinister than orphaned girls.

Once we see her and pass the front, we race to reach her. Darry picks her up easily, sweeping her off the ground and squeezing her in his massive arms, today a special day calling for extra affection. She laughs loudly, slapping his arm. Ponyboy hugs her when she's let down and I follow the embrace, wrapping my arms around her too. My source of shame and guilt. The one I miss more every time we go. My little sister of only two years.

"Happy birthday Marlene." I keep an arm around her as me and Darry tell her all the wonderful things we wish for her day, her year. She's sixteen. Ponyboy hands her the wrapped gift, scratching the back of his head.

I can tell Darry's getting anxious as she opens her present too. He shifts from side to side, fists in his pockets. She grins at the now revealed framed picture of Mom and Dad and us, right in front of our porch playing in the snow.

"It's not much."

"It's everything I wanted Darry, don't be silly." She holds the frame close to her chest, like she's embracing the photo. I remembered the night after Marlene was taken away. I sat on my bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to summon her along with Mom and Dad, but all I felt was a sinking feeling. My chest seemed to get lower by the millisecond, pulling the rest of my body along with my heart. My blanket was heavier. My pillow never became comfortable.

"He just means that we wish we could've given you more," I say. "We wanted to sign you out for a few hours, like we did during the holidays, but we just couldn't." _Because we can't afford to take you anywhere and you refuse to visit home. _

"I understand."

"When you live with us- "

"Darry. Enough, please. Just stop promising me things every time you see me. You don't gotta feel guilty." She sighs. "Sorry. I know what you want to give me, but you can't give it to me now. Maybe not ever. Maybe I'll have to just wait out the system. I think it's time we accept that, huh?"

And that was way worse than the comment Mr Duncan made.

She grabs Darry's shoulder. Her cheeks rosy, she sighs again. "You can't fix everything. I know you've tried. I know it. But at this point, there's nothing to fix."

Darry clenches his jaw, careful not to let anything spill that'll ruin the day. I save him by saying, "Oh, shoot. You forgot to bring the cake, Darry. Why don't we go fetch it and then enjoy it together hm? Sorry we forgot it Marlene, we just couldn't wait to see you."

Darry looks her right in the eyes. I wonder if his could freeze her warm, insistent ones. Like me, she has Dad's eyes. "That's right, I did forget. We'll go get it in a second. But," he bends over so he's just a couple inches taller than her, "Don't you say that to me." She opened her mouth but Darry spat, "You don't get to say that to me, ever. You understand that?" He stood over her, towering her. It was strange because it was out of love. I could see his insides boiling, threatening to spill and burn over.

Once Darry and I turn to get to the car, Marlene says softly, but with the pull of white shark, "We're not allowed to eat food that ain't made here if we're not signed out."

Darry turns around slowly, and a whimper escapes my mouth, because I know where this is going to go. "What do you mean, 'not allowed'? You're not allowed to eat the cake your big brother's made you?" he speaks in warning, not in question. A quiet rumble that only Darry can make sound threatening.

She touches his arm. "It's not that I don't appreciate it Darry, but -"

"What? Do they think I'm gonna poison you or something?"

"Marlene that's horrible," Pony says. His green-gray eyes are round. "You're not gonna have any birthday cake?"

"This is fucking ridiculous," Darry says. "And what happens if you eat it, huh? What the hell would they do to you?" Darry's muscles are bulging, the size of small melons. People are starting to look at us, eyeing my big brother warily.

The thickness in the room squeezes and pinches on my skin, a million different hurts wanting to devour me. Us.

Marlene looks around the three of us, caught between wanting to maintain an image of being fine around here and not trusting that Darry won't explode no matter what she says. I can see her thinking about what is okay to tell us and what is not.

"You don't have to feel guilty," she repeats quietly. "I know that's why you're upset. This isn't your fault Darry. It'll be over soon, in another year." She shrugs like it's so simple. Like a year is just another rainy day. That sums up my sister, not wanting to trouble her brother, to take away that burden when God knows what her life's really been like here. Where I find it admirable, I know it's getting under Darry's skin more than anything. He'd prefer it if she'd just gotten straight to the honest, truthful point of it all. To tell him she's had nightmares or isn't being fed well or is cold at night so he can face the problem head on.

A beat passes and then: "Look you're making the kid cry!" Darry says angrily, pointing to Pony, as if that'll make Marlene back down.

"I am not," Pony said frowning like he's been betrayed by our oldest brother.

"I just don't want you to come here and look like you're failing me every damn time I see you. Look, maybe if I ask for permission-"

"You will not! Mom and Dad wouldn't want you here, Marlene. I'm not askin' no goddamn, tight-lipped asshole if I can give my sister her fuckin' birthday cake." I don't know how my sister isn't squirming. It's that firmness she got from our mother. "It's like you're at the reform school, and we gotta see you every Sunday. That's for Church, kid, not seeing my damn sister." He hadn't been to church in months but I don't point that out.

"Don't visit me then, if mass has suddenly become so significant for you," she says. "Is it all that newfound Christian guilt?" she adds. She widens her eyes and gasps, mocking him. "What, am I creating that much of a problem for you? It's not like I asked to be here, Darrel..."

"Hey, that's not what he meant and you know that," I warn her. I move a fraction of an inch closer to Darry, like I'm afraid that he's gonna cross some line if I don't physically block his way.

"He's had things awful rough," Pony says. "He's been so worried about you. He's got more stress than he oughta." Me and Darry look at Pony, as I want to say, 'hey, isn't that my line?'

Marlene stands with her fists at her sides. She blows away a strand of hair that's come loose, her cheeks becoming so red it's like she's gotten slapped silly. Her petite frame trembles, but in a way she is defiant, staring us right back. All us boys are on one side, holding Darry, like we're afraid he'll come apart. We don't want all these hidden secrets to become exposed, and I guess in a way we're as bad as Marlene, making her think that we don't die every time we leave her. I know my sister is the one staying here, but my big brother keeps a photo of Marlene right by his bed like she's dead or something. She doesn't feel how much we miss her too. Just wants us to ignore this all and pretend like everything's just dandy.

Marlene Curtis holds her own against us three like she's as large as Darrel Curtis Sr himself. She looks exactly like him. Well, she looks like Dad but if you had to squeeze him into Mom's frame; if you had an outline of Mom and colored her in with Dad.

"Mom and Dad-"

"Shut up about Mom and Dad. Stop it," she takes a step closer to Darry so that she's looking straight up at him. She points at his chest with every word, digging her finger in like she physically wants to leave a mark too. She hisses through clenched teeth, "You. Cannot. Fix. This." I know it stings my brother like fire. Every word burned up her throat, and she coughs like the smoke's choking her.

Darry breathes heavily, every one he takes defined and important. In. Out. Inhales. Exhales. "Maybe if it weren't for your boyfriend," Darry says the word like a swear word, "You wouldn't be here. If you'd listened to me, if you'd thought of anyone other than yourself for two fuckin' seconds...you'd still be home. They took you away. They ripped you away before my own eyes. You don't know what the hell that feels like, kid." I hope she hears the crack in his voice. I squeeze Darry's arm. He shouldn't have brought up Curly Shepard. I pray that Marlene overlooks that. She ain't seen him since they locked him away, about the same time she was sent to this... place. Small windows, bricked walls, empty-looking except for the groups of wide-eyed girls and several chairs.

"The hell I don't know what's it like to be ripped away!" she screams. "This is happening to me, I'm the one here, you self-absorbed dick. And don't you talk about him," she tears up, enough that I guess we finally got her to stop pretending with the fake smiles.

"You're comin' with us, we're driving somewhere," Darry says like he's lost his mind. "I don't give a damn, you're getting your cake-"

He grabs her arm and one of the nuns that had been watching race forward, and my heart rises with sincere question of what the hell is going to happen now. I look at Darry, and he's ready for her, a year's worth of fire ready to claim its torch, its victory. 'Cause another year just ain't an option.


End file.
